


Fast Enough to Fly

by james



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:58:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6773728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky hasn't raced since he lost his arm, but meeting Tony Stark might just change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fast Enough to Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ForeverCrushing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverCrushing/gifts).



> So, I know that all of your prompts pretty much asked for sex scenes, and this story has none. I'm sorry and I hope you like this anyway.

Bucky scowled at Steve. "I can do whatever the hell I want to with it; it's my money and if I want to fix up your car, I will."

Steve glared up at him, jaw jutted out in sheer stubbornness. He'd long since stopped telling everybody that he was going to hit just one more growth spurt, but what he lacked in height and breadth, he made up for in sheer intensity – the force of which Bucky was feeling, now.

Forestalling the next salvo in the argument, Bucky held up his arm, showing Steve the ugly hunk of prosthetic. "I can't fucking drive with this thing, you know that. So I might as well fix up your freak-ass car so that one of us can win."

"You can drive--" Steve began, but Bucky cut him off.

"Not well enough to beat the best. I can beat the local yaboos, sure, but not drivers like Clint or Natasha. But if we get your car fixed up right, you _can._ "

Steve continued to glare him down, but soon enough Bucky saw him start to wilt. He watched as his best friend sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I just hate that you had to give up--"

Bucky slapped his hand – his flesh one – over Steve's mouth. "So you just gotta win 'em all," he said. He'd spent enough time on his own hating the world, his life, and the stupid accident that cost him his arm and his ability to street race against the best. He'd finally dragged himself out of it and he didn't want to go back over it again. He and Steve had been friends forever, and their dream had always been to race together. As kids they'd always joked they'd trade off winning, but now it was just going to be up to Steve.

"You really think we can beat Natasha?" Steve asked, focusing on the race.

"Maybe if you let me re-paint your car," Bucky began, and Steve squawked in outrage. "Seriously, Steve! I know you got a fetish for your comic book hero, but you had to do that to your car?" Bucky danced backwards, away from Steve's flailing fists.

"Don't you dare insult Captain America!" Steve shouted, but he was grinning, leaping after Bucky to try to pummel him. 

"I'm embarrassed to even know you," Bucky said as he scampered sideways, dodging Steve, then he turned and ran as fast as he could.

~~~

They turned up at the next race early, Bucky wearing his prosthetic despite the fact he wasn't going to need it and it was fucking uncomfortable. But when he didn't wear it to a race, people always asked if he'd lost his arm in a car wreck. Bucky knew damn well it was pride that made him feel so insulted at the idea – though the way he'd lost it was even more stupid than wrecking a car. It had been a work accident, two morons playing joust with the forklifts, and they'd knocked themselves and a whole shelving unit over. Bucky had been trapped under the wreckage, caught unawares, and the rescue team had had to cut his arm off to get him free. The company had paid him a huge settlement in exchange for Bucky agreeing not to sue, so now he had all the money he could possibly want to fix up race cars.

It fucking sucked to have the money now that he couldn't race, but he could at least make sure Steve had the best of everything for his car.

Steve was out in the crowd now, talking with folks and finding out what he could about the new racers. There was a couple from someplace in Europe, a pair of twins with a bright silver car. Bucky didn't know which of them was the driver, but it didn't matter. Steve's Captain America wouldn't be ready for winning until they'd finished working on her, so this was just a race to feel out everybody else. Bucky had his cash, expecting to lose it, but hoping to win some valuable information.

He caught sight of Clint's purple monstrosity and made his way over. He saw Clint's back to him, so he snuck up, reaching out to tap him on the shoulder. Right at the last second Clint looked back and smirked at him. He flipped Bucky off, then pointed to the shiny purple panel of his car. The silver edging reflected the crowd around them and showed Bucky clear as day.

Bucky signed, "You're an asshole." He was clumsy with the prosthetic, but mostly he stuck to one-handed signs and let Clint read his lips when necessary.

"Says the guy who was trying to startle the deaf man," Clint returned. Then he yelped as Natasha dropped a hand on his arm. Bucky held out his hand for a high-five, which she returned, giving him a confused look.

"Why am I even friends with you?" Clint asked her.

"Because I let you dance on the entrails of the drivers I beat," she said. "Which is all of them." Natasha tilted her head at Bucky. "Did you know that Stark and Rhodes are here?"

"Do I care?" Bucky asked, but actually it was kind of intriguing. Those two tended to stay in New York, or they headed down the east coast sometimes. They rarely made it as far south as Atlanta; Stark worked for his dad's company, doing biotech engineering whatever, but word was he was a genius when it came to cars. Rumor had it he'd built his and Rhodes' cars from the ground up and supposedly seeing them race was a sight to behold. Bucky made himself look like he could give a shit, because he was not about to go all fanboy on a couple of flashy racers – until he'd at least seen for himself if they were worth it. He said, "I heard they were all sparkle and no substance."

Natasha rolled her eyes at him. "They're down that way if you want to go ogle. Clint's going to race them tonight."

Bucky nodded. There'd be another race this weekend, and no doubt Natasha would race then and wipe the floor with everybody. Her Black Widow was named appropriately – no one had been able to beat her in the five years since she'd shown up. The only race anybody knew of that she'd lost had been to Clint way back at the very beginning and ever since then they'd been partners, racing together and making everybody wonder if they were sleeping together or not. Bucky didn't want to ask and risk getting more body parts cut off.

He did, however, want to see Stark and Rhodes' cars, so he made his way through the crowd. It seemed like everyone was mostly gathered around the black and silver War Machine, Rhodes standing in front of it giving everyone what sounded like a standard "we're going to whoop ass" spiel. Behind him was a second car which Bucky went over to. There was a guy leaning against it with his head down over his phone who completely ignored Bucky as he walked up. Most likely this was Stark himself, since nobody who frequented the race scene here would be rude enough to plant their ass on such a beautiful machine without the owner's permission.

"I think this might be even more horrible than Clint's car," Bucky said.

Stark's head snapped up and he glared. "Are you seriously comparing my gorgeous IronMan to that bright purple thing Barton calls a race car?"

"I am," Bucky retorted. In truth, the car was absolutely gorgeous and Bucky rather longed to get his hand all over it, and maybe have sex on the hood with anybody who was willing. He wanted to pop the hood and take a look at the engine, but he didn't expect Stark would let him, since he didn't already have it open.

He looked over and laughed at the outraged expression on Stark's face. Stark pointed a finger at him, then hesitated and said, "I'm not racing tonight, or I'd show you just how gorgeous this car really is."

Bucky shrugged and held up his hand. "I'm not racing, ever."

He saw how Stark's eyes went to his prosthetic, then back up at Bucky's face. "You used to, though?"

"Best damn car in the state," Bucky said. "Used to drive the Winter Soldier."

Starks' eyes widened in recognition. "I heard about you. So you gave up driving..." He glanced at Bucky's arm again, and Bucky could see him swallowing awkward questions about trauma and being too fucking scared to drive or some shit.

"Stupid thing can't make a tight turn," Bucky said. "Busted Steve's car nearly in half trying. Now we're fixing her up again and pretty soon he's gonna be driving the second best car that ever was." Bucky gave Stark a smug smile. 

"Huh," was all he said, then he reached out and grabbed Bucky's hand, turning it over and looking at it.

"What the fuck," Bucky said, yanking his hand back – or trying to, but Stark just kept hold of it for another moment, poking at his palm and fingers.

Stark just stared thoughtfully at his hand for a second, then waved a hand absently, staring off into the distance. "So come up in a week," Stark said. "It should be – no, come by my hotel tomorrow so I can get...we can probably--" He looked at Bucky. "We could go now except Rhodey hates it when I skip out on his races."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" 

Stark just blinked at him like Bucky was the one not making sense, then he asked, "Do you not know who I am?"

"You're Tony fucking Stark, billionaire playboy something something, and you're a genius with race cars and your daddy wishes you'd settle down and take over his business and stop getting arrested for illegal street racing." They all knew who Tony Stark was, and sometimes the bunch of them would get online and look for gossip, following the racing forums (which were absolutely not about illegal street racing at all, no sir) and laughing to each other about the younger Stark's antics and racing exploits.

Stark just kept staring at him. After a moment, he said, "I'm also a fucking genius who invents biotechnology and personally holds twelve – no, fifteen as of last week -- patents for the most amazing, brilliant devices you've ever seen in your life. Including prosthetics," he said, enunciating like maybe Bucky was stupid as well as missing an arm.

Bucky looked down at his hand – the stupid, ugly, clunky thing that let him open cans and put on his pants, but had taken away the only thing in his life he'd really loved. He looked back up at Stark. He opened his mouth to offer Stark a blowjob or his first born or maybe make a joke about it all, but he found himself standing there, mouth hanging open like a moron, unable to say a word.

"Come by tomorrow and we'll get a cast of your arm," Stark said, and he reached into Bucky's pocket and pulled out his phone like he owned the place, and punched in a number. After a second, Bucky's phone buzzed again, and Stark nodded. "Address and my contact while we're in town. Tomorrow, not early, I don't wake up before noon unless the world is ending. Not even then, really." Stark smirked at him and walked away, over towards his friend Rhodey, and Bucky stood there staring at Stark's shiny gold and red car and thought about driving.


End file.
